In Sanity
by Adventures in Anomalies
Summary: So after the LABB murder cases, BB is imprisoned. In jail a psychiatrist is called in to 'help' him...but she finds her own sanity jeopardized at the hands of this patient and his manipulative ways. So who will change whose mind, for better, or worse?
1. Lights Out

Author's Note

Hello, this is my first attempt at a story here on Fanfiction. It may start off like a drabble, but that's just to get the plot bunnies bouncing around a bit in the meadow of my mind. I promise that it'll get better with reviews and constructive criticism is appreciated a lot, of course. (:

**Prologue**

**Wammy's House-In warm blooded Youth**

_A hand, a dance, and several steps taken._

_They dance, without hands, without feet touching the floor; dust motes swirling in the single shaft of sunlight barely illuminating the scene, and the faces of those in it. It is the hot, almost burning, certainly blinding golden quality of light,the kind that few can look into without blinking._

_Her stare is elsewhere however. If not the sun, his eyes are the next most difficult thing to keep a level gaze with. His clearly aren't blinking. She wonders if he sees her as his equal…though she is vaguely aware that the one he longs to be an equal to, is on entirely different level, a completely separate plane it seems; almost impossible to reach without traveling through the great stretches of time and space…_

_Space…where red giants floated, and here she permitted the trace of a smile to tug at her lips for the irony that was in the comparision of a pair of eyes to massive balls of burning gas._

_Red dwarfs, more like, this set of crimson irises watching her intently, with an intensity that she felt could match the stars, B's burning gaze, beyond anything she had ever experienced…and now it was strange, she felt like she was rapidly losing gravity, as if sinking towards the terrible twin black holes that were his pupils, pulling her towards him…_

_Warmth…flushing throughout her entire being, surely it was the effect of the late afternoon sun bathing them in its rays, and not shy, soft lips pressing against each other? But they had been sitting there for at least 15 minutes, and hadn't felt the heat hitherto the meeting of their mouths…_

_Quickly the girl breaks away, face warm and her upper lip pressed, almost petulantly, against the lower one. Attempting to sort out flustered sentiments, the girl sits in the 'after-glow' of the 5'o clock type of sunshine, and the 5 seconds worth of sensuality in this situation._

_The red eyed boy merely sits, in contemplation, in puzzlement that is written, amply evident on his features, and that will be as hard to erase from his countenance, as it is will be this memory from his mind…_

**A Jail Cell-Present Day**

Beyond Birthday blinked, and shifted his position, the chains clinking as he made movements to stretch his frame. He smiled faintly as he heard the bones crack in his neck, the sound a pleasant reminder of how he had violently twisted victims' necks in a fatal grasp, the base of their skulls grating, (in what was to BB) _harmoniously _against the top of their spines, before their heads slumped backward, jaws sometimes twisted at an awkward, grisly angle.

_Ahhhh…_those bygone better times of breaking bones and bursting blood out of bodies with every slash, stab and slam of a knife deep into a victim's vital organs, their long drawn out screams a symphony to BB as he worked almost methodically; eyes, chest, lungs, windpipe, gut…so many to choose from, so few to actually make the cut...hehn hehn…

BB's smile slowly soured into a frown as the memory faded and reality took its place, the bright white glare of overhanging lights a reminder to his imprisonment…these days he was lucky if he could lash out and sprain the ankle of some incautious, wandering warden.

_Hmmmm…better times? _ The severe white lights seared into his mind, dredging up one particular recollection of equally glaring sunlight in a hot summer afternoon, a room and a boy and some girl...

BB shrugged and let a shuddering sigh escape his lips as he shook himself of that seemingly insignificant memory. He tended to remember the identity of the dead better than those that were alive... especially if he had been the one to take their lives.

The serial murder settled down to curl up in a fetal position, to sleep and dream the dreams that were, to any normal, sane person, horrific, ghastly grotesque nightmares that would send them screaming for a psychiatrist's treatment…but for Beyond Birthday, seasoned perpetrator of homicide with the eternally unslaked bloodlust, these were sweet dreams that helped to dissolve the bitter facts of confinement…and for that reason, for his considerations that crimson liquids looked much better _outside_ a body, Beyond Birthday would soon be getting psychiatric treatment.

Whether he would accept it or not, was another matter altogether.


	2. Puzzled to Meet You

Chapter 1

_The children sit, across from each other, the atmosphere quiet but not silent, for it is merely space emptied of sound, a space silent with words that will be said soon, but not yet._

_He is puzzled._

_That's as much as she can tell without him speaking- and she is puzzled by his puzzlement, a puzzling reaction to the momentary kiss that was shared._

"_B…?" The question mark hangs in the quiet, hooked by it's curve and the period continuing the dots of an incomplete silence._

"…"

"_Did I…do something wrong?" the tone is edged with doubt, that could be a catalyst for doubling the guilt._

"_No…it's just…an unusual sensation."_

An unusual sensation.

That meant something was felt to be incongruent enough with habitual experience for it to become a 'sensation', yes?

There was the sense, the sense of _significantly increased_ comfort- which was highly unusual these days, Beyond Birthday thought, his gaze searching a perfectly plain white ceiling, stretched far away from him.

Not that soft cushions were very sensational.

BB looked around him, puzzled.

A _whole floor _of cushions was rather sensational though.

They were white and stretched from one wall to another, covering every inch of the room except for the ceiling. As BB wriggled up right, he noted that the walls were covered in the same white padding as well.

Beyond Birthday sat cross-legged, attempting to figure out the circumstances.

Location: Room full of padding like stiff pillows.

Attire: Straitjacket and faded blue jeans. Uncomfortable, but serviceable. It made him itch like crazy, and chaffed his hips- damn pants. BB had long ago grown accustomed to the straitjacket, his official uniform for the duration of his stay in jail. He'd quickly accepted the obvious logic behind restraining his arms, and had improvised to make use of his other limbs to deal maximum lethal damage to his captors. With his legs dressed in the ill-fitting cargo pants that were standard issue to each inmate, it was easy enough to kick out and break the shin, or shins, of a careless guard. He had managed to break an average of 4 to 5 bones per week before the authorities wised up to his violent tendencies and slapped the bastinadoes on him. He could barely shuffle along now that his feet were cuffed together.

People: Him, and him alone.

As Beyond Birthday assessed the situation, he surmised that he'd been knocked out the previous night and transported to this strange place, perhaps with an anaesthetic or, judging by his smarting jaw, a couple of blows to the cranium- though he wouldn't put it pass the vindictive guards to beat the living daylights out of him even after the sun of his consciousness had set.

Even now he felt like he could see stars, and not the pretty twinkling ones you got at some midsummer festival, but the furiously blazing towards you at 500 metres per second kind of star, or meteor as it were. The comet seemed to crash into his brain now, and a searing burning kind of pain set in, the agony throbbing sharply with the sort of dull thrum that indicates it's going to be there for a while.

Some sort of side effect from the administered drug, perhaps? BB wondered groggily, an overdose? As the numbing effects began to wear off, Beyond was vaguely aware of a rectangular-ish hole opening up in one of the walls, the one on his…left, and a figure coming through.

_Doors…open…freedom…escape…_

With those words sibilantly whispering their definitions in his mind, they swiftly became his intentions, and Beyond Birthday wriggled to get up but only managed to rise to a kneeling position. No matter, he could still make progress in a position like this. Slowly he crawled across the cushioned ground, on his knees, squirming to keep his balance and not fall forward.

_Seven inches…Five inches…three…two…closer…_

In his eagerness, Beyond lurched forward and lost his balance, falling on the side of his face.

_DAMN! Damn damn damn!_

His mind screamed as his jaw hit the floor first, sending fresh waves of agony shooting through his whole head. Shakily he turned his face upwards, wincing as he did so…his eyes traveled further northward, two slim skin coloured columns met his gaze, growing darker in shade as it went on up and up into a black abyss…except for an unclear flash of colour, a deep purple that had a rich silky quality to it in the little light available.

He was puzzled.

What in the world was he looking up at? Beyond wondered, squinting. Twisting his head, if he could just get a better angle maybe he'd be able to figure it out…

Unfortunately Beyond had not figured out that a rapidly accelerating shoe was coming toward him…particularly his head.

BAM!

Beyond screamed in pain as the foot collided with the already aching part of his head with horrible accuracy. The scream seemed to surprise his assailant who jolted back away from his writhing form.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR!" Beyond yelled, tears springing to his eyes.

" …For being a peeping pervert," answered a cool, completely unabashed voice. Its owner shut the door and moved around Beyond Birthday, prodding him in the stomach to manoeuvre him, also with a shoe tip.

"Don't touch me!" snarled Beyond Birthday, impressively jerking away from his kicker, despite being bound up rather securely.

"Then get up and move to the centre of the room…please," responded the voice in the same arid, detatched tones of someone moving purposefully away from an offensive creature.

Beyond blinked away his tears, and tried to follow the direction from which the instruction came, and heard a creak followed by a soft thump.

Nothing was being clarified from his uncomfortable position, all he could see on the edge of his vision were a pair of ankles in olive pumps shifting around. Slowly, he got to his knees again and and wormed his way over to the middle of the room.

This process took a couple of minutes, with much grunting, a little sweating and some swearing involved.

When he reached his so-called destination, he sat back on his haunches, kneeling. It was not the not the most comfortable position, but at least it facilitated movement reasonably, in case he needed to shift again…or dodge.

The stranger sat on a foldable chair, the kind you get in school auditoriums for award ceremonies or long boring lectures attitudes towards academics, looking at several sheets of paper critically.

Beyond Birthday examined the person sitting opposite him with quiet discretion.

She was… and that was as far as his train of thought got before getting derailed by the subject's gender.

_She?_

_She…female…woman…the gentler sex…sex…hmmm…yes, there was that, certainly…_

Beyond Birthday hadn't had any contact whatsoever with the opposite gender since his imprisonment started several years ago, in fact he'd almost forgotten their existence, on account of a rather male chauvinistic approach to the handling of this prisoner in particular; a serial murderer so atrocious, so evilly cunning and manipulative that extra precautions had to be taken- and women, ha, women were so _sentimental_ and _sympathetic_ and _sniffy- _and their soppy natures would be taken advantage of before you could say "Knife!", and scream out a warning that one sharpened toothbrush or similar pointy object was fast coming toward you, terminally. So we'll have an all male guard, please.

As such, Beyond was left a little more than curious as to how to deal with the figure seating coolly across him, investigating his bio and reading relevant records.

She was of average built, apart from her slender legs now crossed over each other, and rather smaller than usual hands rifling through pages. As for her facial features, all regular save the petite lips pressed together, probably in disgust at his impressively detailed, heinous transgressions against humanity, society and the world at large.

Beyond could feel his own lips pressed against each other in a smirk as he imagined the horror that would creep upon her face as she found out more and more about him…

A woman, huh? Beyond Birthday had worked with them, and _on_ them as well… He lowered his gaze to the area which distinguished the female from the male in a manner so obvious, so prominent that no gynecologist was necessary to point out that, yes, Specimen A was of a feminine persuasion.

_Definitely_ female then, BB mused, eyeing the unmistakable form that, although varied in size with each individual, was the hallmark of girls who had gone through puberty everywhere.

"Look _up here_, if you please," her voice sliced through his thoughts.

BB's head snapped up, red eyes locking onto rust-brown ones.

" Prisoner 724, Beyond Birthday, or Rue Ryuzaki – You may address me as Ms Jinters, It is… a puzzle to meet you."

A puzzle? Wasn't it social protocol to say 'pleasure'? Though it made sense, most people were confused when they met Beyond Birthday. Or more accurately, terrified.

Then again, their terror and confusion were typically short-lived.

Beyond Birthday smiled, revealing glistening sharp canines.

"And I am puzzled to meet you, Ms Jinters."


End file.
